She saw herself reflected in those eyes—caught trembling in a delicious cage. He slowly nestled his heavy thigh deep between her legs. She gasped at the wetness flooding her down there.
The command, the easy way he held her, both went straight to her center, paralyzing her, scaring her, but in a strangely exciting way. She could do something but chose not to. When a word meant freedom, she didn’t need martial skills. She had the power to stop him. Yet, all she wanted to do was to wait, quivering, for his next move.
He kissed her, only this time his lips pressed harder, rougher, until she sank under the assault. She gasped at the thrust of his tongue and the nip of teeth. Writhing, finding herself trapped by his arms and body, sent her arousal soaring to new heights. Her nipples scrunched into tight pebbles. When his leg pushed rhythmically onto her mound, blood pumped into her clit until it stood up hard against his harder muscles. Moaning, panting softly, she melted into him.
Lord. What is happening to me?
He lifted his head, eyes regarding her this time with a hint of triumph. “Sometimes force can make things more enjoyable. Or so it seems in your case.” He smiled. “True?”
She licked her swollen lips, feeling as if every part of her had been ravaged by the electricity from the galvanic machine. Is it true? And if it is, does it matter? He looked at her as a human. He kissed like some god come down from the heavens. Right then and there, she needed him so much. She held his gaze, feeling small and conquered and wanted.
He released her hand, rolled off her to the side, and waited. His arm draped heavily across her chest; his thumb idly traced the underside of one breast, making her aware of the power he had to hold her again.
He wanted an answer.
“I guess, it might be true,” she said softly. She reached up and ran a finger across the stubble on his chin to the corner of his mouth. That she could touch this man, like this, stirred her and left her awash with wonder.
His eyes darkened. “You guess. I never like to leave a woman unsure about her answer.”
With a directness that made argument seem wrong, he grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away from his face.
“What are you doing?” She tugged, though not enough to be a serious attempt.
He ignored her, shifted onto his knees, straddled her body. The circle of his fingers around her wrist, the way his knees clamped in on her body, and the weight of this solid man above her stole the air from her lungs. If she leaned up, she could press her mouth to his trousers and let her lips feel the muscle beneath. A sudden desire to do more than kiss stormed through her. She wanted to bite him.
Enough. That thought… She slumped back onto the pillow, shutting her eyes to comprehend the way he handled her, to smell his closeness. Countermoves raced through her mind and vanished. Within seconds he’d fastened her hands together above her head and flipped her onto her stomach. She turned her head to one side, breathing fast and shallow into the pillow and the side of her arm; then his hand came down on the back of her neck and held her there.
Pinned. His other hand flattened onto her lower back, weighing her down, sending heavy currents coiling between her legs. One of his fingers settled into the top of the divide of her ass, like an arrow pointing straight to her moist slit, to where she pressed into the bed. She groaned, tried to squirm. Her clitoris thrummed with excruciating need.
“Stay. Still.”
The words stopped her. She wanted to obey, wanted his touch, and moaned her frustration into the softness of the pillow. How did this happen? How could he make her lust so fiercely with so little?
Silence throbbed past, slick and hot and wet, until the world was only him and her and what lay between her legs.
His hand slid a little lower. A soft noise escaped her lips.
“Have you a better answer now, Claire?” Then he clasped her neck tighter and wriggled that delicious finger he’d wedged in the split of her bottom.
Ohh. Either she gave in and told him the truth, or soon she’d be begging him to touch her, and she wasn’t going to do that.
“Say you like it. Repeat my words.”
Somehow, that made it simple. “I…liked it.” She breathed once. “Yes.”
“Good.” He let her go, lifted both his hands, and undid one of the cuffs. “I look forward to lesson two.” The way his voice dropped an octave made her lower body clench. But she didn’t move as the bed dipped, or even as she heard him walk away, open the door, and leave. The door clicked shut. She lay there, trembling, stunned, and wishing she’d had the courage to ask him for more.
Those other cursory lessons, of the darker skills some men demanded—she’d written them down in shorthand and giggled with her friend, Francine. She wondered what Theo’s lesson two would entail.
Then she sank her teeth into her lip.
What have I done? I must not lose myself in this, no matter what he says. I’m a frankenstruct, not a human.
Humans always end up hurting us. Always.
Chapter Four